If And Only If
by SteelAgainstIvory
Summary: A strangely fluffy oneshot of Pip and Damien, the latter of which wonders about the temperature of hearts and hands. Pip, on the other hand, doesn't need to think so much as Damien's hand stays in his... Slash-ish-ness. R&R would be helpful.


A/N: This one is going to be short

**A/N:** Someone explained this to me a while ago and I thought it was a curious idea

**Warning:** Sort of slashy. Cute though.

**Disclaimer:** So… yeah. Totally not mine.

**Summary:**

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ – Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Your hands are freezing," I shivered and pressed my bulky, warmer ones into them. The blond blinked up at me curiously, glancing down at his pale pink hands afterwards. Flexing the little digits he smiled.

"I think anything is freezing compared to your body heat, Damien," he teased. I frowned but still kept his hand in mine. It wasn't like I needed an excuse to hold Pip, but I sort of enjoyed finding ones. Mainly because he was as bright as a doornail. I don't think he caught on to my… uh, feelings, for him.

"Still cold though…" I grumbled.

Pip lived in Hell with me. I asked him to in what would seem like a random, ordinary day to him. To me? Well, I had been struggling with my obsession with him since I blew him up. His very presence haunted me and my waking wet dreams. Unable to take it, I practically kidnapped him on his sweet sixteen about four or so years ago. You know, I haven't really… sexually touched him… or _anything_.

Yet, I have to have him.

So the Brit lives in my castle in a lake of fire. We share a room and I get to sleep next to him despite every night I swear we'll fix up the guest room tomorrow. We never do, but it is almost like a ritual.

"Do you know what they say about cold hands?" he questioned. It reminded me of the soft, semi-alive thud of his heart under his thin, supple flesh. I shook my head, absently playing with his hair.

We're just lazing about on my bed, which is soft as sin and about as big as Texas. The silky ink colored sheets contrasted greatly with those angelic wisps of gold as Pip reclined on the floor and I am hovering over the edge, just staring.

He's gorgeous… Truly he is.

"They say that if someone has cold hands they have a warm heart," he explained, letting those slender fingers twitch in my hold. I can feel a slight moisture form on his palms. The scent of sweat dazes me a bit.

"Really? I could believe it," the words just come out because I don't care. I just want to sit here for the rest of eternity. Screw Hell, Heaven, Earth, I just want to keep feeling, watching, smelling, hearing my fucking incredible Pip. Too bad I have yet to taste him… "What do they say about warm hands?"

"Huh? Warm hands?" he questioned. I nodded and lean my cheek on my forearm, not breaking the contact of my skin on his. His looks alive and healthy, mine is pale, but strong. Wide oceanic colored eyes and blinking into my dropping crimson kind. I want to smile when he looks this cute, but I don't try. It scares people. I don't have a desire to alarm little Pip… for the most part that is.

"Yeah… what about me?" I ask. "Think I would have a cold heart?"

"Uh…" the slender body lifted up, gently resting his upper back up on the bed, his torso thrust out and giving me very sensual images for my fantasy. "I don't know. Maybe, if the saying would be true."

"Eh, truth is relative," I responded on automatic and let my orbs flutter shut. The rhythmic beating of the human heart (deceased or not) was always very comforting for me. Like a sort of a melody a mother might sing to a baby. Pip's did strange things to me. Right now, it made me lazy.

I let out a deep breath, not fully realizing it was fanning across the Brit's cherubic visage. When I could catch a whiff of that Earl Grey tea, I felt my stomach muscles tense suddenly, and oh so briefly, a light peck landed near my temple. Then the modest face burrowed itself in my crook of my shoulder. I brought our entwined hands up so I could stroke the smooth column of neck.

"Mmm, warm," he mumbled, and then even puffs blew on my perspiring skin. The prat went to sleep. Figures… ahh well. I felt a bit better as I let my chin sit on his pretty head. He felt like ice to me. But everything feels like ice to me.

Cold heart, huh? Probably. But that means Pip's cold hands can't melt it carelessly and I can't burn his heart 'cause it's already blazing in his absolute kindness.

My lips linger on him, the taste of hot honey so sweet…

—**END— **

**A/N: **So… that turned out incredibly sappy and I don't really know how. Go figure. I also have no clue what ANY of it means. _No_ _clue_. This is just what my fingers typed out. I am slightly frightened by this aspect of me.

o.0;;;

Anyone got a clue about the oneshot? Much love, hope you enjoyed!

(_**SteelAgainstIvory**_)


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